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“Would you like me to show you my hips?”

My mouth slammed shut, and he laughed, but a moment later he sobered, looking away and squinting in the slight breeze. “I think what I actually mean, Kaiya,” he hesitated, and then blew out a harsh breath before his eyes met mine. “Let me try to earn another chance. Let me try to show you that I’m…” He looked frustrated as he trailed off. “I am not the man who fucked it up the first time. Let me show you that. Please?” His eyes bore into me with such intent that I found I couldn’t hold onto them, and chickening out, I looked away.

I didn’t know how to respond – I wasn’t even sure how to pick apart the myriad of reactions barrelling through my mind. The silence stretched between us, feeling thin and fragile.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted eventually.

“That’s okay. Think about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

I turned back to look over the view before us, and after a while, the discomfort faded into something less sharp.

“Come on, it’s getting late,” he said eventually, getting to his feet and holding out his hand to me.

I reached for it without thinking, only really realising once my fingers slid across his warm palm and he closed his hand around mine. He pulled me to my feet with a little more force than necessary, and I stumbled into him, my chest crashing against his. I let out a little exhalation at the contact. His other hand slid around me, pressing firmly at the base of my spine to steady me.

“You okay?” he asked, and maybe I imagined the breathless way he said it.

I looked up at him, seeing the gold flecks in his coffee-brown eyes before I blinked and looked down. I took a shallow inhale before I stepped back. He didn’t stop me, but I felt his fingers brushing over the ring I wore on my right hand. Only the barest of touches. Probably not intentional.

We began our walk back down the path. It could have been – should have been – more awkward, but it somehow wasn’t. As if we’d cleared the air, and maybe we had. In a way.

We met Woojin and Minjae on the way up. It started to drizzle and Woojin complained of being hungry, so they turned around and made the trip back down with us.

A small entourage of crew were waiting for the guys to take them somewhere else in the city by the time we made our way back down. Apparently being off the leash for nearly five hours was more than enough time, so they were discreetly herded to the main road where a couple of SUVs waited. I tried to give Joon his scarf back.

“Keep it,” he said. “It looks better on you, anyway. Happy birthday, Ky.” He jogged away towards where the others waited before I could reply. I hadn’t expected him to remember.

As the sun was beginning to set across Kyoto, we all filed back onto the coaches that would take us back to our hotel in Osaka. Like he had at the beginning of the day, Joon’s eyes met mine as he boarded the coach with the other members, but this time it was clear he was scanning the crowd for me. I met his stare evenly until he turned around and sat.

It was then in that shared look that I realised I had never given him an answer to his ‘courtship’ proposal. I lifted a hand to my pursed mouth as I slid further down in my seat, looking out the window as we drove out of Kyoto. I hadn’t said yes, I reasoned with myself. But a quieter part reminded me that I also hadn’t said no.

Chapter 15

After the two concert days in Osaka, the tour had a week-long break to rest and reset. For the press group it was a filing buffer week, which we were using for admin, and I had to submit my first article for the Korean and Japanese concerts. My longer-form content wasn’t due until the beginning of April, in the transition between the Asian leg of the tour and the American leg.

These articles I was submitting now had given me some anxiety, even though I kept reminding myself that I’d been a published journalist for years now. These were the first pieces that would be published for the Reset tour. Up until now, all footage and short-form pieces had been submitted by the media team – the videographers and social media content folks. Now it was my turn. My name was about to be launched alongside the GVibes brand, officially cementing me as a member of the tour, and that was… terrifying.

I’d never really shaken the fear I’d had of public exposure on this scale, and even though I knew logically I was no one important in the scheme of things, and no one had any reason to connect my name to Jihoon’s, it didn’t prevent the old panic.

I worked myself into such a state that I ended up calling Becka. I sat on the floor in front of my open suitcase, phone pressed to my ear as if, by pressing it hard enough into my skull, I might hold in the feelings of inadequacy.

“Urgh, what?” she groaned once she picked up.

“Bad time?” I said, biting my thumbnail.

“Any time between midnight and seven am is a bad time. Whaddyu want?”

I heard a rustling noise on her end.

“Fuck, were you in bed?”

“Bish, I’m in bed. It’s nearly four am. What the fuck do you want?” she whined, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

“So you weren’t busy?”

“Spit it ooouut,” she cried, but bless her, she did not hang up on me.

“I’m crashing out,” I said in a shaky, high-pitched tone.